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novin_haTitle: Pax Slayerica
Spoilers: Buffy - up to season 8 (but nothing major for the comics, just the most basic elements of the verse), AU for Angel's "Not Fade Away", spoilers for Supernatural season 4 (just the angels-related stuff). AU for Y: The Last Man (basically just the setting and some mention of main characters, no real spoilers). Okay, this got complicated. Sorry. It's all clearer in the text.
A/N: This is pretty much gratuitous crossover-y fun, written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
girlupnorth's enjoyment and with her tremendous help. Also, any excuse to write about Castiel visiting someone who is not a Winchester. My apologies if anyone appears OOC. My thanks to anyone who was enthusiastic about the idea. It's your fault. And one of Faith's lines is stolen straight from le_mru's reaction to the premise.
Dedicated togirlupnorth. ♥ I admit it publically, sometimes I can be an asshole.
Warnings: Possibly blasphemy. Sexual situations. Suggested femmeslash. My insane mind.
Words: ~3200 written in less than 24 hours. I consider my NaNo done!
Characters starring: Faith, Castiel and Buffy.
PAX SLAYERICA
[Pax Americana: (Latin: "American Peace") describes a period of relative peace in the Western world since the end of World War II in 1945, coinciding with the dominant military and economic position of the United States. The term was modelled on the Pax Romana of the Roman empire. (after: wikipedia)]
The first time she meets the angel, she’s busy robbing the bodies. He does not appear impressed, even when she tells him she’s totally re-distributing wealth and planning to share her finds with hungry orphans and stuff.
“Except for smokes, because I’m not going to give them lung cancer,” she explains. Or at least she would, if she weren’t busy being shell-shocked by seeing an actual male.
“I thought your kind were all dead,” she says.
“You’ve never met any of my kind,” he answers, and shows her the wings.
The wings are pretty awesome.
*~*~*
Faith never would have thought that Buffy and her cahoots could actually act efficiently. It only takes a couple of months for the Slayers International, to establish their own political entity by taking control over Great Britain. Rumours are that Kennedy’s personal friendship with Queen Elisabeth helped with that, but Faith’s somewhat doubtful, because she has hard time imagining the Queen liking Kennedy.
Then again, she had been best of buddies with Giles before he started vomiting blood, so maybe weirder things have happened.
When Buffy finally reaches her, she doesn’t even start all accusatory, like Faith would have imagined. There’s no “why didn’t you get in touch with the command central?!”, just a “thank God you’re alive”.
“Yeah, he has a guardian angel watching over me,” Faith replies, and Buffy actually starts to cry. “Hey, for a chick with the most power in the world, you’re pretty weepy,” Faith jokes. “Need me to get your ass in shape?”
“My ass is in perfect shape, thank you very much.”
They discuss strategy. Buffy has heard that there’s an actual living male walking the world. She wants Faith to find him and bring him to Scotland.
“Can’t Willow like, look into a mirror and get his exact location or something?” Faith asks, just to make sure it didn’t accidentally slip Buffy’s mind.
“He’s protected by powerful amulets. We’ll be teleporting all that we’ve managed to find out about him to your location in a couple of hours. This is serious, Faith, I’m counting on you here.”
“That whole new level of trust is because I’m vaguely mannish, isn’t it?” Faith asks towards the end of the conversation.
Buffy’s eye roll is almost audible.
*~*~*
“So how come you’re even here?” she asks him on his second visit. She’s trying hard not to be too creeped out by the fact that she wakes up to find him staring at her; it’s not like he’s a guy. He’s a sexless being, or something. She saw Dogma once.
“I’m, so to speak, off duty,” he replies. She’s not that easily dissuaded.
“What was your duty anyway?” He shifts uncomfortably and looks away, avoiding her eyes. The gesture makes him look so male she almost smiles.
“I was trying to avert the Apocalypse,” he says, and she can hear the capital A.
“So you fucked that one up royally, didn’t you,” she says, lightly. “Way to go, team good.”
That’s when he does meet her eyes; his are so intensely blue her mouth goes dry.
“Actually, we won. Killing all men is what we did to stop the end of the world.”
*~*~*
He asks her for secrecy, which makes all the subsequent discussions about possible causes of the gendercide kind of tough on her. They should lay the topic off, but they always end up talking about it when Commander in Chief calls for progress on finding the last living Y chromosome carrier. Anyway, if she didn’t actually know, she’s pretty sure she’d be betting on vengeance demons being responsible for one hell of a fucked up wish coming true. That’s usually Buffy’s tune, too.
Then they remember Anya, and then they remember Xander, and they get weepy on the phone. It’s all pretty embarrassing.
Then one time Buffy tells Faith about her thing with Satsu, and Faith just gets fed up with the whole best friends thing.
“I don’t know why you tell me that,” she shouts into her phone. “I don’t care who you fuck. I’m not one of your Scoobies. I’m the chick who tried to kill you, and who’s now following your orders. So unless you have orders to dispense, I’ve got time to waste doing anything but talking to you.”
Buffy falls silent for a moment.
“The one Scooby who never tried to kill me is dead, actually,” she says. “You know what I asked you to do. So I guess I’ll fuck off now, like you want me to.”
Faith feels a bit sorry afterwards, but she doesn’t say anything the next time Buffy calls, and they don’t get back to talking about non-work related stuff. It’s better that way.
*~*~*
His name is Castiel and he is a soldier like herself. That’s why sometimes he shows up bruised and broken (even if it’s just metaphorically; his body seems to be indestructible, as far as she can tell). That’s why sometimes she feels like he really gets her. That, and his huge guilt over the gendercide. She knows because when she attacked him that night, he didn’t fight back.
She stabbed him with her stake and beat him with her fists, and when she was done shouting at him about how dare he call himself good after helping kill more than three billion people, he sat down on the edge of her bed and took the stake out of his chest.
“I don’t know that I’m good. I used to know, but I don’t anymore,” he told her. “I used to think just because I was God’s, I could do no wrong, but this mission… we had no right.”
“Damn right you didn’t,” she said, and punched him again.
“I opposed the plan. I was sent to protect a young man, a hunter, whom I brought out of hell to do God’s work. He was supposed to help us stop the demons, but he failed.”
She sat down next to him. He remained motionless.
“What happened to that guy?” she asked.
“The same thing that happened to all of them. He trusted me and I brought down the sword of God’s wrath upon him. And then I wasn’t certain it was God’s anymore.”
It’s her luck; she got stuck with a semi-male creature, of course he was going to get all broody on her.
“I still don’t get it. Why kill all the men?” she asked, finally.
“To protect the last seals. To stop Lucifer from walking upon the earth. To avert the actual end of the world, when every last human being would be plunged into hell for all eternity.”
He’s also a little dramatic.
*~*~*
She finds a lukewarm trail of the allegedly male kid three months later. It’s bodies, of course. Dead bodies in very weird clothes.
“I’m pretty sure this is some conspiracy thing, B,” she tells Commander in Chief on the phone. “Cloak and dagger, all nine yards.”
Buffy doesn’t exactly sound surprised.
“We have it under control, Faith. Just watch your back, now that people don’t get born anymore, we can’t really afford to lose one of our best.”
“Yeah, I could kick all your collective asses, B, and you know that. When have you last seen action, huh? And I don’t mean girl on girl action.”
“You’re extremely amusing, Faith. Take care.”
“Yeah, you too.”
*~*~*
“So, am I like, an instrument of God, or something? Is that why you keep showing up in my room while I’m asleep? Or are you just kinky like that?”
Faith asks all those questions while changing out of her pyjamas. She is considerate enough to face the wall, just in case the fact that he’s inhabiting a male body is of any importance.
“Oh don’t mind me. But I would love an answer sometime this century, please,” she adds.
Castiel stands up from his chair. He’s wearing the same coat as always. It suits him, but the contrast with her in her t-shirt and underwear is somewhat striking.
“You’re nobody’s instrument, Faith. Your will and destiny are your own.”
She laughs at that. “Seriously? ‘Cause you know, I’m a Slayer. Destiny and sacred duty - pretty much come with the packaging.”
“Your leader changed that,” he replies, serious as always.
“Yep, she took the ‘the’ out of ‘the Slayer’,” Faith replies. “But she left the ‘Slayer’ right in. Oh don’t look all confused, aren’t you supposed to be extremely intelligent?”
That does make him smile. She beams at that.
“So am I your mission now, or are you really completely MIA, AWOL or some such?”
“Not exactly. I haven’t received any orders in a long time. I heard your prayers and I came to you.”
“I most certainly didn’t pray,” Faith replied. “I… how would you put it? reject that accusation wholeheartedly?”
“There’s more than one way to pray, Faith. And maybe you ought to explore some of them.”
“You’ve got a lot of cheek, saying stuff like that. Aren’t you a renegade angel? I’ve never really gone to Sunday school, but doesn’t that, like, make you some sort of devil?”
He clenches his jaw just a little then, and it’s more emotion than she had seen him show in all the months of their night-time visits.
“You should have some respect, Slayer,” he says, quietly.
“If you have nothing useful for me, then piss off and leave me alone,” she replies. “I’ve got enough tight-assed self-righteous pricks – or, technically, vaginas - in my life. Don’t need another.”
He walks out the door. She slams it behind him.
*~*~*
She relates the details of a run-in with the Daughters of the Amazon to Buffy.
“I’ve been on the trail of that mythical last man for the last six months, and I have yet to actually see him. Are the mystics absolutely sure that he survived? I mean, if it’s magical, shouldn’t it have got him as well?”
Buffy sighs into the phone. Faith finds herself wondering what sort of new hair Buffy is wearing this season. She misses familiar faces. Even that prick Castiel would be better than nothing.
It’s silly, the way she can push all the dead men out of her consciousness for most of the time, and in other moments the reality of their being gone just hits her square in the chest. She’s never going to see Wesley’s pompous ass again. Gunn is gone. And Giles, who really came through for her, Xander who was an okay guy any way she looked at it. Even Robin Wood and that silly Andrew kid. She is so fucking grateful at least Angel remains undead and walking.
She gets so lost in thought she has to ask Buffy to repeat what she has been saying.
“Yes, Faith, he’s there, and for all we know, you’re closing in on him. It’s of utmost importance that the Israeli or the Japanese don’t get to him first. Humanity’s survival could be at stake!”
Faith rolls her eyes at that. She couldn’t care less about humanity these days. So they’re dying out: big deal. As long as the ones who are alive already get to live the rest of their lives in peace, she’s not sure if future generations are any of her business. Children are pretty much overestimated anyway, as far as she’s concerned.
“What do you want him for, anyway?” she asks.
“We’ve been over that a thousand times, Faith,” Buffy replies, impatiently.
“Hey, if you’ve got more important stuff to do, please go,” says Faith. “I’ve been thinking about splitting anyway, this is a boring mission, just send someone with fewer questions to replace me. I’ve been thinking about going to LA for a longer period of time anyway, I really miss the sun.”
She can just bet Buffy grinds her teeth on the other side of the phone. She silently laughs at the image.
“Willow will do residual magic tests on him, and we will protect him from harm.”
“So, do you think you’re gonna do the horizontal tango with him? I mean, he’s the last cock on earth, and your genes really shouldn’t go to waste.”
“I don’t know how I ever forget how disgusting you can get, Faith.”
“Send my love to whichever junior you’re banging this week. Bye!”
Okay, so she likes to get a rise out of the boss. It’s hardly her biggest sin.
*~*~*
When he finds her in another one of the vacated flats she appropriates on the way, she’s surprised by how much she has missed the useless prick.
“Gracing me with your presence, huh?” She looks him up and down; he’s rumpled and tired, if angels can be tired. “What you been up to?”
“Nothing of particular interest to you. I’ll hazard a guess that you are still shadowing the last man on earth?”
“Are you trying to get me to lead you to him so that you can finish what you have started?” she replies, suddenly suspicious and angry for never asking that question before. She can be pretty daft sometimes, apparently.
He puts a hand on her arm and it’s the first physical contact between the two of them he has ever initiated; she has always been the one hitting him or pushing him, or once, accidentally bumping into him on her way to the loo.
“Do you really suspect that, Faith?” he asks, but she is getting distracted by his very real, very human smell.
“You do breathe, right?” she asks. He nods.
“Then you’re as good as alive,” she says, and kisses him.
He is inexperienced; she knows that rationally. She highly doubts that angels frolic with each other on heavenly pastures when no one is around; if they did, they might be a bit less stuck up. He doesn’t push her away though; he seems to be surprised more than anything else. She pushes the trench coat off his shoulders and moans into his mouth.
“Aren’t you going to say something like ‘we shouldn’t’?” she asks when they pull apart.
“I’m letting you lead me. You have far more experience with the practical application of free will.”
She giggles at that.
“You’ve chosen a really hot body, you know that?” she asks, while taking off her own shirt. “I mean, who did you say that guy was? A dying clerk? That’s impossible.”
“He died of a ruptured aneurysm,” he replies. “He had been praying to be of use to heaven.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s being amply rewarding in the great beyond,” she replies, before unbuckling his belt and helping him out of his pants.
“So, there is blood in you, after all,” she says before pushing him onto the bed. She gets out of her own jeans and panties and straddles him; the sound he makes deep in his throat is as human as they go.
“Wanna see my kind of prayer?” she asks.
Judging by all the available data, he really does. His fingers leave quickly paling bruises on her thighs, and his kisses burn her neck just a little. He flips them and they finish with him on top. She comes first, gasping softly, and then it’s his turn. She would swear she could hear the rustling of feathers.
*~*~*
She sleeps better than she has slept in months; she’s also very surprised when he’s still there in the morning. She’s used to him coming and going as he pleases; she was used to guys who left right after she came, even if she had to make them.
Admittedly, there’s not much chance of that ever happening again.
He makes breakfast, if opening a can of beans and boiling water for coffee can be called making breakfast. She’s hungry and full of questions.
“So does that mean that I’m like, Eve or something? Did I get you in unbelievable trouble with the above?” she asks with her mouth full. He’s wearing his pants and shirt again, but he didn’t bother with all the buttons. It’s amazing how horny she still feels after last night.
He sits down and looks at her, unblinking and completely calm.
“Despite what you might think, I’m hardly the first of my brethren to have come into physical relations with humans. It is unadvisable, of course-“
“So am I going to be, like, immaculately pregnant?”
He looks like he’s in half a mind to scold her for the question, but then stops himself from speaking.
“You know, like in the Bible,” she adds. He takes a deep breath.
“We’ve had intercourse, so ‘immaculate’ is out of the question. Besides, you most certainly did not conceive.”
She finishes her coffee and pulls him down for a kiss. In comparison, his mouth feels just a little cold.
“Wanna have another go?”
*~*~*
They find Yorick, the last (living and human) man on earth three weeks later. He’s accompanied by an African-American spy with numbers for a name, and a vaguely Asian-looking scientist chick. The three are being held hostage by some crazy Amazons and Castiel and Faith end up being the cavalry. Faith kind of likes the role.
Castiel does not kill Yorick. Faith’s really happy not to have been wrong about that. Explaining the whole thing to Buffy would have been a drag, to say the least. She’s pretty sure the whole “he was an angel of God!” thing would just get her raised eyebrows and, possibly, a couple of months in a straitjacket.
Faith tells Buffy that she’s not kidnapping anyone and lets Agent 355, doctor Mann and Yorick go, under the condition that they’ll at least consider the Slayers’ protection. Yorick looks like he’s not quite ready to let go of his romantic notions, but at least the women seem to have their brain functions in check. The Slayers are not a major player; they’re the best of the best, maybe the one chance for a measure of world peace. Sort of like the Roman empire, more powerful than all its enemies combined. Someone explained the concept to Buffy and she passed it on to Faith; they both kind of like the idea.
Afterwards, Castiel does not appear to her for a couple of weeks; she takes a leave off the Command Central and treks to Boston, curious what’s happened to it since she saw it last, soon after she was chosen. He finds her a day’s way from the city.
“Dude, you’re really not supposed to enter my bedroom uninvited,” she tells him, sleepily. She ought to yell this one, but a yawn prevents her.
“I didn’t think I was uninvited,” he replies. Smarmy bastard.
“Just so you know, I’m not into any of that messiah stuff. That’s Buffy’s shtick.”
He looks like he can respect that.
Spoilers: Buffy - up to season 8 (but nothing major for the comics, just the most basic elements of the verse), AU for Angel's "Not Fade Away", spoilers for Supernatural season 4 (just the angels-related stuff). AU for Y: The Last Man (basically just the setting and some mention of main characters, no real spoilers). Okay, this got complicated. Sorry. It's all clearer in the text.
A/N: This is pretty much gratuitous crossover-y fun, written for
girlupnorth's enjoyment and with her tremendous help. Also, any excuse to write about Castiel visiting someone who is not a Winchester. My apologies if anyone appears OOC. My thanks to anyone who was enthusiastic about the idea. It's your fault. And one of Faith's lines is stolen straight from le_mru's reaction to the premise.Dedicated to
girlupnorth. ♥ Warnings: Possibly blasphemy. Sexual situations. Suggested femmeslash. My insane mind.
Words: ~3200 written in less than 24 hours. I consider my NaNo done!
Characters starring: Faith, Castiel and Buffy.
[Pax Americana: (Latin: "American Peace") describes a period of relative peace in the Western world since the end of World War II in 1945, coinciding with the dominant military and economic position of the United States. The term was modelled on the Pax Romana of the Roman empire. (after: wikipedia)]
The first time she meets the angel, she’s busy robbing the bodies. He does not appear impressed, even when she tells him she’s totally re-distributing wealth and planning to share her finds with hungry orphans and stuff.
“Except for smokes, because I’m not going to give them lung cancer,” she explains. Or at least she would, if she weren’t busy being shell-shocked by seeing an actual male.
“I thought your kind were all dead,” she says.
“You’ve never met any of my kind,” he answers, and shows her the wings.
The wings are pretty awesome.
*~*~*
Faith never would have thought that Buffy and her cahoots could actually act efficiently. It only takes a couple of months for the Slayers International, to establish their own political entity by taking control over Great Britain. Rumours are that Kennedy’s personal friendship with Queen Elisabeth helped with that, but Faith’s somewhat doubtful, because she has hard time imagining the Queen liking Kennedy.
Then again, she had been best of buddies with Giles before he started vomiting blood, so maybe weirder things have happened.
When Buffy finally reaches her, she doesn’t even start all accusatory, like Faith would have imagined. There’s no “why didn’t you get in touch with the command central?!”, just a “thank God you’re alive”.
“Yeah, he has a guardian angel watching over me,” Faith replies, and Buffy actually starts to cry. “Hey, for a chick with the most power in the world, you’re pretty weepy,” Faith jokes. “Need me to get your ass in shape?”
“My ass is in perfect shape, thank you very much.”
They discuss strategy. Buffy has heard that there’s an actual living male walking the world. She wants Faith to find him and bring him to Scotland.
“Can’t Willow like, look into a mirror and get his exact location or something?” Faith asks, just to make sure it didn’t accidentally slip Buffy’s mind.
“He’s protected by powerful amulets. We’ll be teleporting all that we’ve managed to find out about him to your location in a couple of hours. This is serious, Faith, I’m counting on you here.”
“That whole new level of trust is because I’m vaguely mannish, isn’t it?” Faith asks towards the end of the conversation.
Buffy’s eye roll is almost audible.
*~*~*
“So how come you’re even here?” she asks him on his second visit. She’s trying hard not to be too creeped out by the fact that she wakes up to find him staring at her; it’s not like he’s a guy. He’s a sexless being, or something. She saw Dogma once.
“I’m, so to speak, off duty,” he replies. She’s not that easily dissuaded.
“What was your duty anyway?” He shifts uncomfortably and looks away, avoiding her eyes. The gesture makes him look so male she almost smiles.
“I was trying to avert the Apocalypse,” he says, and she can hear the capital A.
“So you fucked that one up royally, didn’t you,” she says, lightly. “Way to go, team good.”
That’s when he does meet her eyes; his are so intensely blue her mouth goes dry.
“Actually, we won. Killing all men is what we did to stop the end of the world.”
*~*~*
He asks her for secrecy, which makes all the subsequent discussions about possible causes of the gendercide kind of tough on her. They should lay the topic off, but they always end up talking about it when Commander in Chief calls for progress on finding the last living Y chromosome carrier. Anyway, if she didn’t actually know, she’s pretty sure she’d be betting on vengeance demons being responsible for one hell of a fucked up wish coming true. That’s usually Buffy’s tune, too.
Then they remember Anya, and then they remember Xander, and they get weepy on the phone. It’s all pretty embarrassing.
Then one time Buffy tells Faith about her thing with Satsu, and Faith just gets fed up with the whole best friends thing.
“I don’t know why you tell me that,” she shouts into her phone. “I don’t care who you fuck. I’m not one of your Scoobies. I’m the chick who tried to kill you, and who’s now following your orders. So unless you have orders to dispense, I’ve got time to waste doing anything but talking to you.”
Buffy falls silent for a moment.
“The one Scooby who never tried to kill me is dead, actually,” she says. “You know what I asked you to do. So I guess I’ll fuck off now, like you want me to.”
Faith feels a bit sorry afterwards, but she doesn’t say anything the next time Buffy calls, and they don’t get back to talking about non-work related stuff. It’s better that way.
*~*~*
His name is Castiel and he is a soldier like herself. That’s why sometimes he shows up bruised and broken (even if it’s just metaphorically; his body seems to be indestructible, as far as she can tell). That’s why sometimes she feels like he really gets her. That, and his huge guilt over the gendercide. She knows because when she attacked him that night, he didn’t fight back.
She stabbed him with her stake and beat him with her fists, and when she was done shouting at him about how dare he call himself good after helping kill more than three billion people, he sat down on the edge of her bed and took the stake out of his chest.
“I don’t know that I’m good. I used to know, but I don’t anymore,” he told her. “I used to think just because I was God’s, I could do no wrong, but this mission… we had no right.”
“Damn right you didn’t,” she said, and punched him again.
“I opposed the plan. I was sent to protect a young man, a hunter, whom I brought out of hell to do God’s work. He was supposed to help us stop the demons, but he failed.”
She sat down next to him. He remained motionless.
“What happened to that guy?” she asked.
“The same thing that happened to all of them. He trusted me and I brought down the sword of God’s wrath upon him. And then I wasn’t certain it was God’s anymore.”
It’s her luck; she got stuck with a semi-male creature, of course he was going to get all broody on her.
“I still don’t get it. Why kill all the men?” she asked, finally.
“To protect the last seals. To stop Lucifer from walking upon the earth. To avert the actual end of the world, when every last human being would be plunged into hell for all eternity.”
He’s also a little dramatic.
*~*~*
She finds a lukewarm trail of the allegedly male kid three months later. It’s bodies, of course. Dead bodies in very weird clothes.
“I’m pretty sure this is some conspiracy thing, B,” she tells Commander in Chief on the phone. “Cloak and dagger, all nine yards.”
Buffy doesn’t exactly sound surprised.
“We have it under control, Faith. Just watch your back, now that people don’t get born anymore, we can’t really afford to lose one of our best.”
“Yeah, I could kick all your collective asses, B, and you know that. When have you last seen action, huh? And I don’t mean girl on girl action.”
“You’re extremely amusing, Faith. Take care.”
“Yeah, you too.”
*~*~*
“So, am I like, an instrument of God, or something? Is that why you keep showing up in my room while I’m asleep? Or are you just kinky like that?”
Faith asks all those questions while changing out of her pyjamas. She is considerate enough to face the wall, just in case the fact that he’s inhabiting a male body is of any importance.
“Oh don’t mind me. But I would love an answer sometime this century, please,” she adds.
Castiel stands up from his chair. He’s wearing the same coat as always. It suits him, but the contrast with her in her t-shirt and underwear is somewhat striking.
“You’re nobody’s instrument, Faith. Your will and destiny are your own.”
She laughs at that. “Seriously? ‘Cause you know, I’m a Slayer. Destiny and sacred duty - pretty much come with the packaging.”
“Your leader changed that,” he replies, serious as always.
“Yep, she took the ‘the’ out of ‘the Slayer’,” Faith replies. “But she left the ‘Slayer’ right in. Oh don’t look all confused, aren’t you supposed to be extremely intelligent?”
That does make him smile. She beams at that.
“So am I your mission now, or are you really completely MIA, AWOL or some such?”
“Not exactly. I haven’t received any orders in a long time. I heard your prayers and I came to you.”
“I most certainly didn’t pray,” Faith replied. “I… how would you put it? reject that accusation wholeheartedly?”
“There’s more than one way to pray, Faith. And maybe you ought to explore some of them.”
“You’ve got a lot of cheek, saying stuff like that. Aren’t you a renegade angel? I’ve never really gone to Sunday school, but doesn’t that, like, make you some sort of devil?”
He clenches his jaw just a little then, and it’s more emotion than she had seen him show in all the months of their night-time visits.
“You should have some respect, Slayer,” he says, quietly.
“If you have nothing useful for me, then piss off and leave me alone,” she replies. “I’ve got enough tight-assed self-righteous pricks – or, technically, vaginas - in my life. Don’t need another.”
He walks out the door. She slams it behind him.
*~*~*
She relates the details of a run-in with the Daughters of the Amazon to Buffy.
“I’ve been on the trail of that mythical last man for the last six months, and I have yet to actually see him. Are the mystics absolutely sure that he survived? I mean, if it’s magical, shouldn’t it have got him as well?”
Buffy sighs into the phone. Faith finds herself wondering what sort of new hair Buffy is wearing this season. She misses familiar faces. Even that prick Castiel would be better than nothing.
It’s silly, the way she can push all the dead men out of her consciousness for most of the time, and in other moments the reality of their being gone just hits her square in the chest. She’s never going to see Wesley’s pompous ass again. Gunn is gone. And Giles, who really came through for her, Xander who was an okay guy any way she looked at it. Even Robin Wood and that silly Andrew kid. She is so fucking grateful at least Angel remains undead and walking.
She gets so lost in thought she has to ask Buffy to repeat what she has been saying.
“Yes, Faith, he’s there, and for all we know, you’re closing in on him. It’s of utmost importance that the Israeli or the Japanese don’t get to him first. Humanity’s survival could be at stake!”
Faith rolls her eyes at that. She couldn’t care less about humanity these days. So they’re dying out: big deal. As long as the ones who are alive already get to live the rest of their lives in peace, she’s not sure if future generations are any of her business. Children are pretty much overestimated anyway, as far as she’s concerned.
“What do you want him for, anyway?” she asks.
“We’ve been over that a thousand times, Faith,” Buffy replies, impatiently.
“Hey, if you’ve got more important stuff to do, please go,” says Faith. “I’ve been thinking about splitting anyway, this is a boring mission, just send someone with fewer questions to replace me. I’ve been thinking about going to LA for a longer period of time anyway, I really miss the sun.”
She can just bet Buffy grinds her teeth on the other side of the phone. She silently laughs at the image.
“Willow will do residual magic tests on him, and we will protect him from harm.”
“So, do you think you’re gonna do the horizontal tango with him? I mean, he’s the last cock on earth, and your genes really shouldn’t go to waste.”
“I don’t know how I ever forget how disgusting you can get, Faith.”
“Send my love to whichever junior you’re banging this week. Bye!”
Okay, so she likes to get a rise out of the boss. It’s hardly her biggest sin.
*~*~*
When he finds her in another one of the vacated flats she appropriates on the way, she’s surprised by how much she has missed the useless prick.
“Gracing me with your presence, huh?” She looks him up and down; he’s rumpled and tired, if angels can be tired. “What you been up to?”
“Nothing of particular interest to you. I’ll hazard a guess that you are still shadowing the last man on earth?”
“Are you trying to get me to lead you to him so that you can finish what you have started?” she replies, suddenly suspicious and angry for never asking that question before. She can be pretty daft sometimes, apparently.
He puts a hand on her arm and it’s the first physical contact between the two of them he has ever initiated; she has always been the one hitting him or pushing him, or once, accidentally bumping into him on her way to the loo.
“Do you really suspect that, Faith?” he asks, but she is getting distracted by his very real, very human smell.
“You do breathe, right?” she asks. He nods.
“Then you’re as good as alive,” she says, and kisses him.
He is inexperienced; she knows that rationally. She highly doubts that angels frolic with each other on heavenly pastures when no one is around; if they did, they might be a bit less stuck up. He doesn’t push her away though; he seems to be surprised more than anything else. She pushes the trench coat off his shoulders and moans into his mouth.
“Aren’t you going to say something like ‘we shouldn’t’?” she asks when they pull apart.
“I’m letting you lead me. You have far more experience with the practical application of free will.”
She giggles at that.
“You’ve chosen a really hot body, you know that?” she asks, while taking off her own shirt. “I mean, who did you say that guy was? A dying clerk? That’s impossible.”
“He died of a ruptured aneurysm,” he replies. “He had been praying to be of use to heaven.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s being amply rewarding in the great beyond,” she replies, before unbuckling his belt and helping him out of his pants.
“So, there is blood in you, after all,” she says before pushing him onto the bed. She gets out of her own jeans and panties and straddles him; the sound he makes deep in his throat is as human as they go.
“Wanna see my kind of prayer?” she asks.
Judging by all the available data, he really does. His fingers leave quickly paling bruises on her thighs, and his kisses burn her neck just a little. He flips them and they finish with him on top. She comes first, gasping softly, and then it’s his turn. She would swear she could hear the rustling of feathers.
*~*~*
She sleeps better than she has slept in months; she’s also very surprised when he’s still there in the morning. She’s used to him coming and going as he pleases; she was used to guys who left right after she came, even if she had to make them.
Admittedly, there’s not much chance of that ever happening again.
He makes breakfast, if opening a can of beans and boiling water for coffee can be called making breakfast. She’s hungry and full of questions.
“So does that mean that I’m like, Eve or something? Did I get you in unbelievable trouble with the above?” she asks with her mouth full. He’s wearing his pants and shirt again, but he didn’t bother with all the buttons. It’s amazing how horny she still feels after last night.
He sits down and looks at her, unblinking and completely calm.
“Despite what you might think, I’m hardly the first of my brethren to have come into physical relations with humans. It is unadvisable, of course-“
“So am I going to be, like, immaculately pregnant?”
He looks like he’s in half a mind to scold her for the question, but then stops himself from speaking.
“You know, like in the Bible,” she adds. He takes a deep breath.
“We’ve had intercourse, so ‘immaculate’ is out of the question. Besides, you most certainly did not conceive.”
She finishes her coffee and pulls him down for a kiss. In comparison, his mouth feels just a little cold.
“Wanna have another go?”
*~*~*
They find Yorick, the last (living and human) man on earth three weeks later. He’s accompanied by an African-American spy with numbers for a name, and a vaguely Asian-looking scientist chick. The three are being held hostage by some crazy Amazons and Castiel and Faith end up being the cavalry. Faith kind of likes the role.
Castiel does not kill Yorick. Faith’s really happy not to have been wrong about that. Explaining the whole thing to Buffy would have been a drag, to say the least. She’s pretty sure the whole “he was an angel of God!” thing would just get her raised eyebrows and, possibly, a couple of months in a straitjacket.
Faith tells Buffy that she’s not kidnapping anyone and lets Agent 355, doctor Mann and Yorick go, under the condition that they’ll at least consider the Slayers’ protection. Yorick looks like he’s not quite ready to let go of his romantic notions, but at least the women seem to have their brain functions in check. The Slayers are not a major player; they’re the best of the best, maybe the one chance for a measure of world peace. Sort of like the Roman empire, more powerful than all its enemies combined. Someone explained the concept to Buffy and she passed it on to Faith; they both kind of like the idea.
Afterwards, Castiel does not appear to her for a couple of weeks; she takes a leave off the Command Central and treks to Boston, curious what’s happened to it since she saw it last, soon after she was chosen. He finds her a day’s way from the city.
“Dude, you’re really not supposed to enter my bedroom uninvited,” she tells him, sleepily. She ought to yell this one, but a yawn prevents her.
“I didn’t think I was uninvited,” he replies. Smarmy bastard.
“Just so you know, I’m not into any of that messiah stuff. That’s Buffy’s shtick.”
He looks like he can respect that.